Fixed Wing Aircraft
by Cheetour
Summary: The marvelous adventures of the most incompetent airline to pollute the skies.
1. BFFL's

A tradition that has lived on, through generations upon generations, that will never get old. True friends and strong bonds are things that will never die, because throughout the human race you will always find a few folk who will stand by you and love you if you look hard enough; and there was the timeless tradition of how to find them. All throughout human history, men became friends; and these friends would express their platonic love for one another by collecting together and sharing meals and drink. Thus it was that the night out in the pub was born, and with it many cherished bonds between brothers and an even more cherished boom in the beer production industry. So, Douglas Richardson had decided to honour this time-brewed tradition; here were in Shannon, they had two days, and he felt that he might be able to loosen up Martin Crieff. Actually, it was more a detached scientific curiosity that, if given enough alcohol, Martin might actually start talking to women or develop a sense of humour or just stop being Martin-y for a bit. Douglas was usually right, but to avoid a paradox, there was going to be one outcome; Douglas was seldom wrong, but Martin was even more seldom lucky. This paradox played itself out to have, for one of the first times in Douglas' life, a bad consequence. The consequence was now being shoved out the door of a small Irish pub, with his troubles and his good sense drowned in alcohol.

Several shots of vodka (he'd regret playing that drinking game the next morning) and countless pints had certainly improved his spirits, though certainly not his motor skills. He walked, well, drunkenly forward singing a song about a lamp and giggling like a child.

"Come on, Martin, hotel's this way."

"We should..." the man waggled a finger. "We sh'go sleep in the...th'plane. Thas good fun. Tha'was good fun...last time. Like a sleepover."

"Perhaps." grunted Douglas, feeling suddenly more sober than he was.

Martin found this lyrical. "Like a sleepooo-vveerrr, p'raps...m'dad never let me have sleepovers."

"Did he really." the first officer wondered which would be more inconvenient; dragging an unconscious Martin to a hotel or listening to him being drunk before they found one.

"My dad never thought I'd be a pilot. An' now- an' now- I'm a pilot! Y'see this, da, I'm a pi-lot!"

"Do you think he's going mad?" Arthur whispered.

"A night of sleep and a morning of intense pain will see him back to normal."

"D'you know, Douglas n' Arthur," said Martin, "Tha' you're my best friends?"

"Are we?" Arthur smiled.

"M'best friends!" he slung an arm around the steward. "An' thanks for bein' so lovely n' loyal n'...and...sexy."

"Oh," and for the first time, Arthur was uncomfortable with a compliment.

"I don't have any friends."

"I'll bet you don't." Douglas was no longer listening, and instead looking for a taxi or a hotel that could lead them to idiot-free salvation.

"Why do people never think m' the c-cap-tain? Is i'because..." he stumbled a bit. "Is'i because I'm fat?"

"I'm sure it is."

"Only friends," said Martin sadly, then sloppily hugged Douglas, who patiently shoved him away to keep walking. "Douglas, I think you're my favourite."

"Arthur, he's drunk." the favourite said to a disappointed Arthur. "He doesn't mean-"

"I don't mean!" Martin shouted rather too happily. "You look very...beaut-i-ful, Douglas."

"Do I."

"So do you, Carolyn. No, oth'one. Arthur."

"Err," said Arthur, who was learning a great deal about why not to become an alcoholic.

"Would you like a threesome?"

There was a difficult pause.

Douglas and Arthur- who, surprisingly, seemed to follow- exchanged horrified glances with each other, and then directed them at Martin. The aforementioned saw a bench which diverted his colleagues from his sexual attraction for a moment as he kissed it lightly, then fell asleep on it.

There was a second difficult pause.

"Shall we go?" said Douglas.

"Please let's."

They walked on.

"Do you ever worry about him?" Arthur came out with rather suddenly; it seemed alcohol had an opposite effect on the steward's brain than it did on Martin's, which was probably for the best.

"No."

"Don't you?"

"For all his whining," the first officer gave a last distasteful glance at the snoring pilot on the bench, "I think he's fairly happy.


	2. The Hot Hostess Bandwagon

"You're one of the most unique people I've ever seen."

Martin rather thought the same thing of her. "Thank…you…?"

"You're so dedicated. You never gave up. It's so…"

The woman's heavily made-up eyelashes fluttered.

"Sexy."

Martin did his best to look blank or angry or flattered or something, but his terror was probably quite obvious anyway. Most women were terrifying, but never in quite such a…

"You've had your eye on my breasts for a while now, haven't you?"

…scary way. He didn't have too much choice on the breasts matter right now, because she was moving a bit closer. Martin seriously hated his somewhat small height for quite a few reasons, but never this one before; if she moved any closer, he would get a faceful of surgical boob. He took a step back, face red- well, face redder. Face considerably less skin-coloured than usual. She tried to touch him.

She looked a bit confused. Most of them started taking their trousers off at this point, or at least their shirts. The captain just stammered incoherently. So she tried to casually snog him, but he just stood there and are they engaged in some kind of tight-lipped mouth bump.

"Captainly dignity, eh?"

Martin whimpered.

"Let me into those lovely underpants of yours."

"Help." he squeaked.

"If you can get out of this, it'll teach you a bit about confidence and assertiveness. You might need it." tutted Douglas, who had up until then just been shaking with mirth and wishing he had a camera (and thinking about how to get rid of the woman once he'd had enough before Martin wound up naked).

"P-p-perhaps you sh-should go back to the cabin?" the senior pilot suggested.

"Only two men, one's fifty and I've done the other one." she purred.

"Well done!" came a good-natured voice from the other pilot's chair.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" the air hostess smiled, eyelids lowering. "You like what you see?"

"Do you know," said the co-pilot, "I rather am enjoying this."

"Eeemph," said Martin, or something along those lines.


	3. Family Resemblance

"And this is Belinda."

The grey-haired man hoisted the little girl onto his shoulders with a fond smile, her mother staring on disapprovingly, and Belinda looked down at her daddy.

"You'd better buy me some chocolate here, you fat old _sod_."

"Oh, dear, has your mother been neglecting her chocolate-buying duties?"The aforementioned mother slunk away from the pair and the crew with a scornful frown and no more to say to either of them, and Belinda sat down with a haughty glare.

"My mother says you're a stupid man with no parenting skills."

"I suppose I am, dear, but I do try."

Douglas Richardson placed down his daughter and patted her hair, a dull dark brown like his used to be, and left, presumably to succeed where his ex-wife had not and bring back some confectionery offerings. Arthur smiled broadly at the little girl as he did with everything else in existence and the captain just looked wary of her.

She turned around and said to the steward and captain, "Daddy says you're both incompetent and he has to spend lots of time looking out for you."

Belinda was impressively like her father, not much in looks but certainly in everything else- personality, vocabulary and a Douglas-ish aura of haughtiness. Martin wondered what her mother thought of lowered her voice and said conspiratorially, "Daddy's a cretin."

"Well, you certainly haven't inherited your father's ignorance of his own flaws, at any rate." Carolyn smiled, rather gently, having a soft spot for a fellow female who horrifically insulted everything at every opportunity.

"Besides, you're the _captain," _Belinda nodded, "And Daddy's _not_, and Daddy's an idiot and you're _not _so I don't think he's right."

"I think Douglas is _brilliant!_" Arthur chipped in.

"I think you're an imbecile."

"Does your mother know you know all these words?" Martin asked, feeling like he ought to be scornful, but not quite finding it in his heart to criticize a girl who didn't think he was an idiot.

"Mummy's an old witchbag who should keep out of my affairs if you ask me."

"Right. And how old are you?"

"Eleven."

"Ah."

Martin gave a glance at where the first officer had just left and, muttering something about a golden opportunity for taking the piss out of someone, walked away with Arthur at his heels.

"So," the little girl fixed her pigtails and rested her head on her hands, "You're Daddy's boss."

"I most certainly am." Carolyn crossed her arms and returned her gaze, not very experienced in the area of actual intelligent children. She wondered how Douglas dealt with having a child so…well…Belinda-y. "I suppose you want to be a pilot like your father, Belinda?"

"No, and I bet if I was a pilot I'd be _better _than my father, because _he's _a first officer, and he has to do what the _captain_ says."

"You'd be surprised."

"Either way," Belinda nodded, "Nobody ought to tell _me _what to do, and anyway I would be able to run the plane all by myself. What do you do? Do you do all the, the paper and the forms and picking where to go and the money?"

"More or less. I am the CEO."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I am in charge of the company."

Belinda's eyes sparkled and she gave a rather morbid grin that probably didn't belong on a nine-year-old's face. "In charge of _everyone?_"

"In charge of everyone."

"What would happen if you weren't there?"

"Within a few hours, the crew would either bankrupt or dead in a plane crash, knowing them. Your father might do something about it, I suppose. As annoying smug he is, he is quite useful in terms of avoiding disaster."

"My mummy says that he's an incapable, irresponsible wreck." Belinda waved her hand dismissively, but with some uncertainty.

"You don't have to listen to your mother," Carolyn heard herself say, "You listen to me."

"My mother was married to Daddy for a bit." said Belinda doubtfully.

"True, but seeing as she married him in the first place, she doesn't have very trustworthy tastes."

The girl frowned, and decided, "I think he's a silly overweight pig."

"He is, but an annoyingly good one."

"A CEO?"

"Ambitious, isn't she?" Douglas commented, "But yes, that's what said. When she grows up, she's going to be the CEO of an airline. She says she plans to get actual good pilots and intelligent crew members."

"Yes, about that-" Martin frowned, "Why do you let her be so, you know, insulting? Surely that's a bit…a bit…"

He realized his mistake, but Douglas didn't seem to notice; or if he had noticed, mind. "In all honesty, I ought to, but…you know…She doesn't mean it. It's just the way she is. She admired you- us. She admires us. She just expressed it by use of…"

"Scorn?"

"Yes."

There was a small silence in the cockpit, and Martin murmured, "A CEO, hm? You know, she's a bit like-?"

"I know. I sometimes wonder."

The senior pilot gave a small chuckle. "You see your _boss_ in Belinda?"

Douglas shrugged, looked slightly embarrassed, and judged the situation to be sensitive enough to say it. "I see a family member in my daughter."


End file.
